We are finally back home after what seems like an eternity in the hospital (9 days). The old computer battery is running out so I'll spare the tales of digestive woe of the past week; suffice it to say that they kept Anya from getting out of the hospital a good two days earlier than she actually ended up. After many unpleasant attempts at jump-starting the system, it finally awoke to some extent and allowed her some old solid standbys: toast, crackers, fruit, etc.
The return home has been one of muted joy. On the one hand we recognize that the return is a huge step - one that says she's presumably well enough and we're responsible enough that she can go without the constant supervision of health-care professionals . . . On the other hand, it's difficult to re-adjust to what should be a familiar environment but no longer is. It was a difficult transition back because we had to re-discover "comfortable" positions in which to sit and lay, positions that we'd gotten down to a routine in the hospital but had to re-invent in the context of the house. Needless to say this caused quite a bit of pain, consternation, and frustration for all parties, particularly after the stress of the ride home from the hospital on a bumpy road (every crack in the concrete felt by the poor girl's back) and a rigorous climb up about 20 steps to the house. Even in the eight hours we've been home, though, things have started to get a little more comfortable . . . hopefully they will continue promisingly.
Seeing the one you love in pain that can only minutely be controlled is an absolutely awful, crushing feeling; this was the feeling at some points today when no positioning on the bed or the chairs was working correctly, as the pain medication was wearing off, as the stress of the trip home caught up. Seeing her awareness of the pain and the frustration of it all and the questioning of whether this was the right course (who wouldn't?) hurts too, as does the knowledge that your own ignorance of such pain, your own cluelessness about what to do to make it better, only adds to both frustrations. It is sometimes hard to keep the long-term in perspective when such suffering occurs in the short-term, but frankly it's our only hope. I think back on the lifetime of pain Anya's suffered thus far - even from something as innocuous as going to the grocery store - and hope that this incredibly intense period of pain is just some bizarre, last-gasp compensation for the blissful relief that will follow it.
She is one tough cookie and I love her deeply for it. Now that she's ruling the house again (and with a cane), I expect it will be only a few days before she's back blogging herself. Maybe she can reveal more what this is actually like, something I try to understand and sympathize with but know I can never even approach.
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3 comments:
Can I tell you, you explain things in such a way that the reader actually feels what you are trying to express. Your updates have given me a glimpse into what life must have been like for my husband and children when I was the patient. I don't have tell Anya how blessed she is to have such a loving husband. I know a woman who is a single mom and endured this surgery basically on her own. I can't imagine not having someone there to prop the pillows, help me roll over or bring me a cool drink from downstairs. For many of us, it is probably the hardest thing we'll ever go through but a loving, supportive family makes it so much easier.
I'm so glad to hear she is home.
Take care.
blissful relief will follow this....but down the road a bit! Now at almost 11 mths, I'm blissful
Hi Chris and Anya,
It is JKlein from the forum. I had a 55 degree thoracolumbar(sp?) curve too. Now I am at 6 degrees. My surgery was 5-31-07. After I recovered from the belly issue it has been smooth sailing. I walked the kids to school last Friday and I've been sleeping through the night for about a week now. Each day gets better and better. Just hold on tight and know that it will be better soon.
Best,
Jody
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